Tales of a Denerim Street Rat
by Iamdanny0
Summary: The trials, turmoil and tribulations of one lowly Denerim citizen. Begins 15 years before the events of Origins. "I've changed my mind, can we not call it a confession? Makes me feel like I've committed some hideous sin."


**A Friendly Story**

_9:30 Dragon_

Death happens. That's what I was always told. Pretty simple mantra right? Tidy but it doesn't leave a lot of room for manoeuvre, not to mention the fact it's a little bit cold, never felt like it applied to me to be honest, even when I was...

What? No I'm not asking you for money! Do I really look that...? Don't bloody answer that! Been a while since I had to live on the streets but I always thought I scrubbed up well, thanks for breaking that little illusion Sister.

Why am I talking to you? Not for the self-esteem boost, that's for sure. I guess I kind of need to... confess something. That's what you priests are here for mostly, right?

Huh. Let's say I'm not desperate to meet the Maker yet and I just want to get this confession off my chest, I'm not dying or anything. This isn't one of those deathbed jobs you hear about where the mark's so bloody desperate that he gives all his stuff away to some charity and hopes that'll get him in the Maker's good books. Not even sure I believe in the big M to be truthful, Sister.

You would say that though, it's kind of in the job description.

I've changed my mind, can we not call it a confession? Makes me feel like I've committed some hideous sin.

I didn't say I hadn't, I just said it makes me feel that way. Maybe we can just say I'm telling you a story, right? And if this story happens to contain confession-like elements within it, then we'll just have to deal with that, okay?

Glad we're agreeing on that Sister. Erm... I don't want to scare you away but it's a pretty long story, that all right with you?

Long enough that you may want to be sitting down for it but I promise I'll try and make it more exciting than the usual dirge you have to sit through.

All right, I guess the story would begin about fifteen years ago, when I was twelve.

I told you it was a long story! Have you never heard of background Sister? I can't just plunge into the nitty-gritty of the tale without providing some sort of background, I'll probably need to provide some background to the background I'm about to provide.

Mocking you? Perish the thought Sister, look how serious my face is right now? This is the face of a serious man.

Now you're mocking me Sister. Anyway when I was a tiny little baby, I got dropped on the doorstep of a orphanage in Denerim.

I know the standard practice is to give unwanted children to the Chantry. With women like you there, I'm heartbroken they didn't do so but they chose instead to give me to the Happy Star Orphanage.

Don't try and hide your smirk from me, Sister. I know the name is terrible, I didn't come up with it. if I had I probably would've been more true to the nature of the place. Maybe the 'Slappy Star Orphanage'?

Of course! Maker, have you ever seen the state of the place? If I had to work there I'd beat every kid who couldn't move out of my way fast enough.

Don't get all high and mighty with me, I was kidding. Besides I was one of the kids who couldn't get out of the way fast enough. I used to get my hands on every single book that ended up in the place, didn't help me see the nasty buggers coming. See how my nose is all crooked here? Broken when I was 7 then again when I was 9. Probably should've seen it coming when I was 11 but counting was never my strong point.

Oh, your words are kind Sister but you shouldn't waste them on me. I'm standing right in front of you, can you guess what happened to the kiddies who couldn't take a punch? Carted out of the place in tiny little body bags.

I know. I agree with you, it's a wonder it took me twelve years to run away but on that night I...

What? Parents? Fuck them. Never tried to track...

Sorry, my apologies Sister. Never tried to track them down, they made their decision a long time ago and I made mine pretty soon afterwards. All they left me was this dagger...

Pretty nice weapon, right? Irresponsible of them to leave it with a baby as they scarpered but hey, nothing about them screams 'good parents'.

I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason, I just have no interest in hearing it. Now or ever. The dagger itself though... That's always had my attention, it's definitely ornate. See the carvings on the side? The grooves in the blade? Makes me think that either my parents were either rich, thieves or idiots who couldn't recognise something valuable when it was staring them in the face. Guards at the orphanage...

No they weren't really called guards, they called themselves 'Minders' but I'm pretty sure you lose your right to be called anything other than 'arsehole' when you punch kids in the face.

I take it by your ignoring of the word 'arsehole' that you agree?

Sorry Sister... Where was I? Oh right, the guards at the orphanage didn't even steal it and sell it on. Must've thought it was just a flimsy decorative thing and left it in the chest at the bottom of my crib.

Well, I don't have the best memories growing up there if I'm honest. Whole place was fu... messed up beyond belief. I just kept myself to myself and practiced with that blade everyday from the age of about 8.

Most kids didn't even own the clothes they wore, that dagger was the whole world to me. It represented a life outside that blighted place.

Well, I didn't let anyone see me. Just in case they thought I was planning to start some kind of revolution.

Hey, that place was so awful I reckon an 8 year old with a piece could've spurred everyone else into bloody action, at least I might've cut some awful prick's knob off.

Sorry again Sister, I did say I'd make it exciting.

Don't deny you're not engrossed already.

The other kids? They were actually all right. I suppose living somewhere like that makes everyone pull together. No point beating the shit out of another kid when a guard's going to do it 5 minutes later.

I didn't stab anyone in the orphanage. That's not the confession. Maker, you'll wish that's the confession if that idea makes you feel queasy.

I'm guessing your usual confessions are just some soldier telling you that some tart gave him crotch-itch or something.

Judging by that look, I'm pretty much bang on the money aren't I? This story is much better, it's got everything: Action, Romance, Intrigue, Stabbings.

Don't worry Sister, there's no crotch-itch in the story. It all began on the day I decided a life on the streets was better than a life at the Happy Star Orphanage, the day I ran away from that blighted pit when I was 12 years old...


End file.
